


Chick flick moments

by katiebuttercup



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, F/M, First Time, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:23:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2003712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/pseuds/katiebuttercup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean worries about a chick flick moment after sleeping with Dawn; he probably shouldn't have worried</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chick flick moments

Disclaimer: characters do not belong to me and as ever Dawn is over twenty one. This is set post sunnydale 

Dean wakes up with the familiar sensation of morning after- ness. He blinks once at the ceiling before using the heel of his hand to wipe the grit out of his eyes. 

He doesn't want to face this particular morning after situation. It's not like he can dump her at the next gas station. Not without fearing for his life and his genitalia. 

He couldn't even blame alcohol, he'd been stone cold sober.

"Hey are you gonna sleep all day long?" Dawn demands, "there's demon hunting to be done!" 

In some ways Dawn Summers is worse then his father. Born and raised in the game she thrives on the hunt whereas John was on a path to vengeance uncaring to entertain anything other then revenge. 

For Dawn there was nothing more fun then a hunt, unless it was learning new languages both demonic and human which she seemed to grasp with superhuman speed. 

Dean keeps his eyes shut; for all that Dawn is a brilliant hunter, albeit learning the ropes she is still a girl; an emotional girl who cries at the lamest of manufactured slush, she reads romance novels, hidden in her duffel or mattress the way Sam used to stash his porn. 

And Dean likes her, likes her more than he ever thought possible after a bizarre meeting in a cemetery when she had almost taken his head off when he had interrupted her during a hunt-or what she called a patrol. 

He likes her enough not to lie about his intentions. 

Something hits him and he opens his eyes, lunging forward for a weapon. As he does so an avalanche of paper aeroplanes fall to the floor.

"What the fuck, Summers?"

Dawn shrugs, completely unperturbed by his anger, "It was either hit you with paper aeroplanes or draw on your face with a sharpie." She twirls the sharpie between her fingers as effortlessly as she did a stake. 

Dean pushes the rest of the poorly made aeroplanes onto the floor-he'll teach her to make better ones one day, and stands, feeling uncomfortable for no good reason.

"There's breakfast in the microwave," Dawn continues, she shrugs "well reheated pizza but it's still good," she picks up a slice and Dean can't take his eyes away from the way Dawns mouth curls around the dough. Not unlike the way her lips wrapped around his cock last night. 

He walks to the microwave in lieu of trying to think of something to say. Dawn Summers screams "girlfriend material" and date nights and cuddles and mall visits and every self centred teen froth going. 

But she's also a brilliant fighter, a seamstress, ready to plunder good wills for cast offs to make her own, and careful of money, investing it in tools and weapons and research. Everyday she takes a step away from the stereotype. 

Still her glibness kind of pisses him off. 

It's not like she's done this before- he found out half way through, and he's good at sex, really good. She's supposed to be unnerved not him.

Dawn's chewing slows considerably, she looks a little like a chipmunk.

"You alright there? You look weird, is that normal post sex look cos I gotta say not all that attractive." She shrugs, "I probably wouldn't have drawn on your face because then you'd be stuck using your charm to get women and then you'd never get laid."

"My charm is a super power," Dean fires back, popping open the microwave and taking out his slice of pizza He's glad, he tells himself as Dawn rolls her eyes and gets back to the mountain of papers on he desk, ones not turned into paper aeroplanes. 

No chick flick moment, no tears, no lies. Dawn is exactly the same as she was the night before. It's like it never happened or even better that it hasn't changed anything. And he's glad. Really. 

He leans against the counter, watching Dawn at the table, long legs curled beneath her on the chair and remembers how it felt to have those long legs wrapped around him in bed. 

He still wants her. That takes him by surprise, his get up and move on has left him and he doesn't mind.


End file.
